The Myth of ‘Having It All’: Redefining Success as a Present Mother
- Kareena Pritwani
- Oct 26
- 12 min read
Table of Contents
Introduction
For years, I chased an elusive ideal: the "Supermom." You know the one—the woman who effortlessly juggles a career, maintains a perfect home, never misses a school event, and always looks refreshed, even after a sleepless night. I believed that true success meant doing it all, seamlessly and without complaint. Sound familiar, parents? This relentless pursuit left me feeling drained, dizzy, and disoriented, ultimately leading to a crash point where I realized this invisible badge of perfection was nothing more than a myth.
My journey through marriage and early motherhood, especially after my children Krishiv and Khushi arrived, intensified this pressure. I found myself trying to be everything for everyone, striving for an impossible standard of "good enough." It wasn't until I reached a breaking point, exhausted and overwhelmed, that I began to question whose definition of success I was actually living up to. This blog delves into how societal expectations of motherhood impact our presence with our children and explores how we can redefine success on our own terms.
What if success in parenting wasn't measured by accomplishments, but by the depth of connection we foster with our kids? In this space, we'll explore reimagining success to prioritize shared laughter, spontaneous hugs, and presence over pressure.
In this blog, The Myth of ‘Having It All’: Redefining Success as a Present Mother we'll uncover the power of emotional attunement, nurturing playfulness, and the unexpected freedom that comes from letting go of control in motherhood. Join me as we celebrate a new vision of parenting, one that values genuine connection and joyful moments above all else.
To begin this journey let’s first dissect the reasoning behind our definition of success—it’s time to ask ourselves whose version am I trying to live up to and what are the costs of this? So let’s get reading.
The Myth of 'Having It All' for Mothers Today.
After I got married to Divya, I joined a school almost immediately. Not because I was chasing ambition, but because I was the main breadwinner for my parents. My parents had done everything for me, and I didn’t want to step back just because I was now in a new home.
I wanted to keep supporting them, paying the bills, and staying financially responsible. But at the same time, I had just entered a new family. A new rhythm. New people. New systems. I was trying to manage a job, build rapport with the house helps, give directions without sounding bossy, understand how things worked in this new home, all while waking up every day trying to be “good enough” for everyone.
I told myself, “I can do this.” I wore that sentence like amour. But now when I look back, I realize, maybe if I had given myself even a few months to just settle in, things might’ve felt gentler. Because every new chapter, especially marriage, deserves space. Every big change needs time and effort.
And then came Krishiv, my son. And then my daughter Khushi. And the cycle repeated, but louder. After Khushi was born, I wanted to show up for both my babies with equal intensity. Just like before, I cooked for Krishiv even though we had a cook. I wanted him to feel my love in every bite. And even with stitches from my C-section still hurting, I’d take him for his swim sessions, walks, races in the hallway with Khushi snug on my chest. She was just two months old when I started stepping out again.
My heart was telling me “Don’t let Krishiv feel the void.” But my body was whispering, “Slow down.” One evening, I sat on the couch, drained, dizzy, and disoriented. That was my crash point. My body had done all it could. That night, I cried not from pain, but from pressure.
We women keep chasing this invisible badge of Supermom. Maybe we inherited that image from stories, from social media, from whispered expectations. Do it all. Look good while doing it. Don’t complain. Smile more.
But that day, I dropped the cape. I realized I didn’t have to do it all alone. If I couldn’t juggle everything, it didn’t mean I had failed. It just meant I needed my people. I started calling in help, Divya, my husband, stepped up more than ever. Grandparents came into the picture. Krishiv started understanding too. It became an ecosystem. A village. And slowly, things softened. I still hesitate when asking for help, I won’t lie. That guilt doesn’t vanish overnight. But when I start feeling the overwhelming rise, I pause.
I let go of control. And I return to what matters most: connection, presence and playfulness. Because now, I’m not chasing someone else’s definition of success. I’m building our own version, one that feels honest, doable, and joyful. Even if it’s messy.
I realized I didn’t have to do it alone and that simple shift freed something in me. It redefined success entirely. It wasn’t about doing more, earning more, or proving more; it was about how deeply I could connect with my children in the moments that mattered. That question — how did I love today? — became my new compass. And it’s what led me to reimagine success in motherhood altogether. Let me explain.
Reimagining Success
I used to believe success came with certificates. Performance reviews. Full days. Tidy rooms. Balanced tiffin. A home that smells like sandalwood and looks like Pinterest. But one ordinary afternoon, something else showed me a different kind of success bone I’ll never forget. I was lying down for my postnatal massage. Khushi was still tiny then. Div was on his MacBook in the same room, multitasking as usual. The kids were playing just a few feet away.
I had barely settled onto the mat when I heard Krishiv’s soft voice… reading. To Khushi. Not only was he reading a book out loud, he was adding gestures, making silly sounds, trying different voices. All on his own. No one told him to. No one asked. But he stepped in. Gently. Lovingly. Like a big brother who just knew. When the massage ended, I walked over quietly. He looked up and ran into my arms, giggling, “Mommy, did you hear me reading?” I had tears of joy in my eyes. Yes, I heard every word. And my heart grew ten sizes in that moment.
Then on his birthday, another memory etched itself into my idea of success forever. Krishiv and his friends dug their fingers and licked the cake straight from the table. Fingers, cheeks, elbows, everything was covered. They painted the walls, coloured the floor, and turned the house into a birthday explosion. Div and I just sat back… and let it happen.
Because the joy on their faces? The pure thrill of, “My parents are letting us eat cake the way we want!” that joy was louder than the mess. It was a success. Not the kind you photograph for Instagram. But the kind you tuck into your soul and revisit when life feels heavy. These moments don’t come with awards. They don’t tick boxes. But they are the markers of a life well-lived.
We still have goals. Divya and I talk about them often. But now, our goals include:
Shared laughter.
Spontaneous hugs.
Joy over perfection.
Presence over pressure.
Now, our scoreboard isn’t, what did I achieve today…
It’s: How did I love today? And did my children feel it?
Redefining success shifted everything for us. Once we chose play, love naturally followed — and with it came a deeper kind of presence. In a world full of distractions, this presence matters more than ever. It’s what helps our children feel safe, seen, and celebrated. But what does that really look like in everyday parenting? Let’s find out, keep reading.
The Power of Presence— Nurturing Playfulness
There was a time I thought presence meant being in the room.
Now, I know it means being in the moment, with all of me. It’s not always easy. Notifications buzz. Groceries call. Work emails arrive stamped ‘urgent.’ But I’ve learnt that when I look into my child’s eyes with my full attention, not multitasking, not half-listening, I’m doing something bigger than just parenting. I’m anchoring them. I’m telling their nervous system: You matter. You’re safe. I see you.
One evening, around 7, I asked Krishiv if he wanted to come for a drive. He looked up at me from the couch, eyes still on the screen, and shook his head gently. “No, Mommy. I’m busy watching.” So I nodded, picked up Khushi, and stepped out anyway. We ended up at a Playtorium, just the two of us.
I watched her crawl around, climb slides, giggle wildly. And thirty minutes later, my phone rang. It was Krishiv. His voice was soft. “Mommy, where are you?” He was missing us. When we returned home, he was still watching TV. I didn’t rush in. I simply asked, “Will you finish this episode, or will you switch it off when it’s dinner time?” He responded clearly, “I’ll watch for another 10 minutes”. So I nodded and left the room. No lecture. No guilt. Just trust. I went into my musical zone with my ukulele while Khushi stacked blocks beside me. And then… exactly ten minutes later, the TV clicked off. Krishiv walked in, eyes gentle, voice even softer, and said, “Mommy, can you hug me?”
Without a second thought, I left everything—ukulele, Khushi's half-built tower—and held him tight. That hug turned into conversation, that conversation into laughter, and before we knew it, Khushi had joined us too. We played. No clock-watching. No dinner alarms. Just… us. That night, I realized something: presence is not control. Presence is permission—permission to be, to feel, to meet each other where we are.
Our children don’t need us to choreograph their every move. They need to feel that we’re there—truly there when they’re ready to connect. That small pocket of time, where nothing else existed but my arms around my son and Khushi crawling into our joy, that was the power of presence. No performance. No parenting rulebook. Just a deep, playful connection.
Because the truth is, our kids won’t remember what we made for dinner but they will remember that when they asked for love, we didn’t hesitate to give it. When we learn to be truly present, we often discover something unexpected: presence also asks us to loosen our grip. To trust. To let go of control — not because we don’t care, but because we care deeply enough to give our children space to grow. But can letting go, even when it feels uncomfortable, actually create deeper bonds and more joy in motherhood?
Letting Go to Grow—Releasing Pressure in Motherhood
When we talk about motherhood, we often talk about holding on, holding space, holding emotions, holding it all together. But what if the greatest growth lies in learning how to let go?
I remember when we were in Bangalore, and Krishiv expressed that he wanted to go visit his grandparents. Divya had to travel to their home for work, and Krishiv said, with excitement bubbling in his voice, “I want to go too!”. My first instinct? “No.”
Not because I didn’t want him to go. But because the idea of him being there without me felt like losing control. I was heavily pregnant with Khushi at the time and couldn’t travel comfortably, so the thought of not being physically present or missing his stories, his moods, his meals made my heart ache.
But then something shifted. I remembered what parenting truly meant to me. So, I let go. And Krishiv went. For five days, he laughed with grandparents, met new people, tasted new snacks, and made fresh memories. And I, quietly at home, growing a little life inside me, also grew. I had time to reflect, rest, and even learn a new skill I’d been putting off for ages.
Then, one evening, I got a call. It was Krishiv. In his sweetest, most matter-of-fact voice, he said: “Vacation over now. Tell Daddy to bring me back to Mommy.” It was such a gentle, powerful reminder: When we create space, we don’t lose love. We invite more of it in.
That short separation didn’t distance us. It deepened us. He returned with stories. I welcomed him with softness. And both our hearts had stretched wider with love. Motherhood isn’t about hovering. It’s about holding with openness. And sometimes, the biggest gift we can give our children is the freedom to fly… and the joy of coming back home.
Every time I’ve chosen trust over control, presence over perfection, I’ve felt a quiet revolution happening inside me — and in my family. It makes me wonder: what if this shift wasn’t just personal, but collective? What if society started celebrating present, playful mothers — not as women “doing less,” but as visionaries shaping the future in ways no metric can measure? What would it look like if society valued present, connected mothers as the true visionaries of change? Well, to find out–keep reading.
A New Vision of Motherhood—Celebrating Present, Playful Parenting.
Somewhere along the way, we were sold an image of the “perfect mother” , a woman who never misses a school event, always packs balanced meals, never loses her cool, runs a business, maintains a spotless home, and still looks photo-ready by dinner. But here’s the truth no one says out loud: that woman doesn’t exist.
And maybe just maybe we were never meant to be her. Because the real magic happens not in perfection, but in presence. We celebrate:
The hugs that interrupt meetings.
The giggles during homework time.
The art on the wall that wasn’t meant to be there.
The tears that lead to conversations.
The quiet moments of just being together.
When Divya and I reflect on our journey, we don’t remember the tasks ticked off or the trophies won. We remember connection, the eye contact, the cuddles, the goofy songs, the messy mornings that turned into magical afternoons. We dream of a world where mothers are not measured by their productivity, but by their presence. Where being emotionally available is seen as leadership. Where, slowing down for a child’s curiosity is a sign of success, not failure.
And you know what? That vision isn’t far away. It starts in homes like ours. In hearts like yours. On that note, let’s recap the blog.
Conclusion
As I leaned into this gentler, more playful phase of motherhood, something in me shifted—I wanted to share what I was learning, not as advice, but as an invitation. This journey of redefining success has been a profound one, moving from the relentless pursuit of an impossible ideal to embracing the authentic joy of presence. It’s about recognizing that our worth as mothers isn't measured by how much we do, but by how deeply we connect and how genuinely we show up for our children and ourselves.
This path has led me to truly cherish the messy, beautiful moments that define real family life. It’s about valuing shared laughter, spontaneous hugs, and the quiet moments of connection over any external marker of achievement. It’s about understanding that letting go of control isn't a failure, but an act of profound trust—in our children, in our support systems, and in our own intuition. When we release the pressure to "have it all," we create space for what truly matters: a life rich in love, connection, and playful presence.
Here are 5 key takeaways from this blog:
The Supermom Myth: We often chase an invisible badge of perfection, believing we must do it all alone and seamlessly. This pursuit often leads to exhaustion and a feeling of failure, highlighting that true strength lies in recognizing when to ask for help and letting go of unrealistic expectations.
Redefine Success Beyond Accomplishments: Success in motherhood isn't about certificates, tidy rooms, or perfect social media aesthetics. Instead, it’s found in genuine moments of connection, like a child reading to their sibling, or the pure joy of messy, spontaneous play. Let’s shift our scoreboard from "what did I achieve?" to "how did I love today?"
Presence is Permission, Not Control: Being truly present means giving our full attention to our children, anchoring them and making them feel seen and safe. Presence isn't about choreographing every move, but about meeting our children where they are, trusting their rhythm, and being fully there when they are ready to connect, often leading to deeper, more playful interactions.
Letting Go Cultivates Deeper Bonds: Motherhood often feels like holding everything together, but true growth often comes from learning to release control. Trusting our children to experience life, even away from us, allows them to grow independently and can deepen our connection upon their return, showing that creating space doesn't lose love, but invites more of it.
Embrace a New Vision of Playful Parenting: The "perfect mother" doesn't exist, and the real magic lies in authentic presence over perfection. Celebrate the everyday, messy moments—hugs that interrupt meetings, giggles during homework—as true markers of success. It envisions a world where mothers are valued for their emotional availability and presence, shaping the future through connection rather than productivity.
Adopting a gentler, more playful way of being a mom really changed me for the better. It made me want to share what I learned, not like a set of rules, but more as an open invitation to others. This dream came true when I teamed up with four amazing people, and together we created Parenting with a Smile: A Journey into Playful Living. I invite you to read this book to explore deeper connections, be more present, and find the simple joys in everyday life. It offers our journeys on being a mother, a parent, a father, and how we applied the C12 holistic framework for children’s holistic growth.
Thank you for reading this blog, The Myth of ‘Having It All’: Redefining Success as a Present Mother. All the best for your parenting journey. Feel free to like, comment and share this blog with fellow parents.
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